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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
By Monday morning information was amassing. The team was called to the apartment over the garage for a before-dawn meeting after Noah received another call from Jordan. Jordan was in attendance with pictures transferred from the field laptop Travis was using above the ranch, as well as satellite images obtained through a commercial satellite Tehya had managed to hijack during the night.
There was definitely something going on at the Patrick ranch.
“We have Federal Judge Carl Clifford as well as Marshal Kevin Lyle in attendance.” Jordan pointed out the pictures Travis Caine had taken from his vantage point above the Patrick ranch
house. “We also have several other ranch owners in attendance.” Several other pictures snapped into view. Grant Malone wasn’t one of those ranch owners.
Noah didn’t let himself feel a sense of relief that Grant wasn’t there. At this point, he was finished with the man who should have been his father.
“We also have this.”
This was a picture of a black van parked behind the house. A figure was being dragged from the vehicle by two cowboys. The face was covered by black material, hands bound.
“Chuck Leon,” Noah stated. “Our missing mechanic.”
“Try our missing undercover FBI agent,” Jordan snorted. “He was a lower-level member of the militia, working his way up the ranks. He’s been in the area for over six years. Kept a low profile, worked a few of the ranches. His cover was blown two days ago and no one knows how. We have a leak between here and Washington, and we can’t tap it, we can’t find it. It’s like a disease, and it’s starting to piss me off.”
Jordan’s expression was brutal.
“Four FBI agents, all using completely different undercover identities,” John Vincent pointed out, his steely gray eyes flickering between the men in the team. “It’s not a leak you have, it’s a rather good eye.”
Noah slid the other man a curious look.
Dressed in camo pants and an olive green T-shirt, Vincent leaned forward in his chair and tapped at the pictures of the four agents. “College student, car salesman, pharmacist, and mechanic. Those were their covers. They were all in different areas, in different jobs, but all those jobs were public related in some manner. Now, I don’t know ’bout you blokes, but I can smell an agent, foreign or otherwise, a mile off. Your mechanic was better than most.” He nodded to Noah. “But we all suspected him as a plant. He had that feel, that air of an agent that only another agent or trained eye would recognize.” He tilted his sandy blond hair and stared at the pictures. “Are we certain the sheriff’s clean?”
“The sheriff is clean. We know it.” Jordan nodded. “Then you have someone else. An officer on the police force, a deputy or other law enforcement agent with the training that would allow him to identify your agents. It takes a special eye, you know that. Grayson has that eye. I know damned well he does because every time he sees one of us he gets that cop look in his eye and starts trying to figure out the puzzle.”
Noah scratched at his beard as he rose from the couch and paced the living room. “Grayson’s clear, so who does that leave us with?”
He turned back to the other men. There were no answers.
“It has to be a resident. Someone who’s come in contact with these agents between here and Houston.”
“A needle in a haystack,” Nik quipped before turning to Jordan. “Are we rescuing Mr. Leon?” Anticipation filled the Russian’s large face.
“At this time, we’re watching.” Jordan’s expression cleared, his eyes went hard. “They don’t just kill, they hunt. Let’s see if they take him out to hunt.”
Months of training in preparation just for this tightened Noah’s body. They had practiced being the hunted. All of them. Playing intricate games of cat and mouse, flee and evade, working together to give the illusion of one target as they circled around the SEAL members playing the hunters to take them out. Not that taking out Reno Chavez’s SEAL team had been easy. Their success rate with those men had been dismal.
But Gaylen Patrick and his little hunting party weren’t a SEAL team prepared for them.
“Stay on alert.” Jordan began gathering his equipment together and storing it in the leather case he had carried with him. “When they move with Leon, we move.”
Noah crossed his arms over his chest as he paced into the kitchen, his mind working through probables. He couldn’t get the information out of his head now. Something wasn’t sliding into its proper slot, and he couldn’t figure out why.
“We’re certain Grayson is clean?” He turned back to Jordan with the question.
“As certain as we can be.” Jordan nodded. “We have his office bugged, Tehya’s been running through the tapes. The man is ready to pull his own head off trying to figure this out. He knows there’s someone, somewhere, leaking information. He just can’t tag the leak or where it’s coming from.”
“It’s someone close,” Noah growled. “The wild card in this little setup has to be someone we’re overlooking. Someone the mechanic was in contact with as well.”
“If you figure it out, we’re ready to roll.” Jordan shrugged. “Until then, all we can do is play what we have.”
Jordan looked outside to the faint rays of light edging through the darkness. “We better clear out and get in position.”
The last thing they needed was for all of them to be in the apartment at the same time. As Jordan, John, and Micah slipped from the garage, Noah turned back to Nik.
